


Halves and Wholes: The Women

by Lythlyra



Series: Halves and Wholes [2]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 1,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lythlyra/pseuds/Lythlyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke asks it, without thinking, if Isabela misses having a place to call home, and she says that she doesn't think about it at all. (A collection of prompts or gift-fics from my Tumblr involving f/f pairings.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Marian Hawke/Isabela: The Long Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> I accidentally deleted this recently when I was trying to add more chapters. *facepalms* I'll be re-uploading all of it.
> 
> This scene is prompted by Bellisadinosaur.
> 
> Marian Hawke/Isabela -- The long way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally deleted this when I was trying to add more chapters. *facepalms* It's all posted again, though.
> 
> This scene is prompted by Bellisadinosaur.
> 
> Marian Hawke/Isabela -- The long way home.

The mansion feels too soulless to be hers. There are empty halls and long silences where Mother should be, where Father might sit and read, where Carver and Bethany are meant to stay. The heirloom relics of the Amells only prove more taunting than they could ever be reassuring.

Hawke wants to go home -- but home is a small farm near a village that doesn't exist anymore.

And then there's Isabela, breezing through with the force of a hurricane and breathing life into the ghosts lingering in these halls, vibrant and real just the right balance of what Hawke needs and what she _doesn't_.

Hawke asks it, without thinking, if Isabela misses having a place to call home, and she says that she doesn't think about it at all.

It's a lie that they indulge; when they're at the docks, surrounded by strong currents and an even stronger, briny wind, Hawke sees a flash of that understanding, that longing, in Isabela, too.


	2. Marian Hawke/Isabela: Critique

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is a gift for by Neonowls.
> 
> Marian Hawke/Isabela -- Critique.

This is something very short, very simple, written for [Neon](http://neonowls.tumblr.com/), featuring Modern AU!Marian Hawke and Modern AU!Isabela.

\---

"It's a penis," Isabela announces without preamble, without shame.

That's one of the things Hawke loves about her -- there's no denying that -- but not so much in cases like _this_.

"My _mother_ bought that portrait."

It's an innocuous thing, all dark shapes and abstract objects, that Leandra insisted she take when she finally moved to her a place of her own. Had she known then it would become the topic of things she _couldn't unhear_ , she might have refused it a little more earnestly.

"And that's about right. She's probably seen a few in her time."

"Isabela!"

And she just tosses her head back and laughs, dark curls pooling over the pillow, and just like that, all the heat behind Hawke's glare is gone.

"Oh, don't blush on my account, kitten."

But the gleam behind her eyes, the quirk of her mouth, the heat of her bare skin -- drawing her closer beneath the sheets, until Isabela's lips find the curve of her neck -- have Hawke doing just that anyway.


	3. Marian Hawke/Isabela: Friend Fiction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is prompted by Stormdragon.
> 
> Marian Hawke/Isabela -- Friend fiction.

"You wrote _all_ these?"

Hawke sifts through page upon page of parchment, heat creeping along her face -- and Isabela only grins like a cat, looking up from the desk in her bedroom (and dropping the knife she's using to carve all manner of things that Hawke doesn't _want_ to see) and standing.

"Did you see _Duty and Magic_? I'm _proud_ of that one."

Isabela being proud of anything like _this_ usually means trouble, and Hawke can't stop giving her _looks_ until she finds the sheet in question.

"You didn't."

"I did!"

"Isabela--"

"Oh, come _on_. If you ask me, it'd do them _both_ some good."

" _Bev Raven and_ _Bastian Baelle_? My sister and--"

"She's a woman, you know. Sebastian certainly seemed to know that when she visited."

" _I_ don't want to know. What Bethany does is her--"

"Then she's surrounded by all those _Grey Wardens_ while she's away. What's a girl to do?"

It's intentional -- it can be nothing else -- but family, anything about it, is always touchy with Hawke, especially her little sister who is _not_ so little anymore.

"You're terrible, you know. Absolutely, completely terrible." The resignation carries something else -- affection. If someone doesn't pull Hawke out of her own head, out of her own _seriousness_ , it won't happen at all. In times like this, she wonders how much of what Isabela does it just _her_ and how much of it is knowing, watching, supporting.

"And that's exactly why you keep me around," Isabela says, plucking the stories from her hands and tossing them onto the desk, and drawing her closer.

It's _a_ reason but never _the_ reason, something both of them know without ever admitting it.


	4. Isabela/Merrill: Fluff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is prompted by Bellisadinosaur.
> 
> Isabela/Merrill -- Fluff.

(How did this get away from me? I didn't know my heart had so much Isabela/Merrill lurking in it!)

Merrill is distraught over it for days when it happens -- returning to her small hovel of a home to find _things_ missing, not many but enough, and it's sort of _fascinating_ in its odd way until she realizes _it_ is gone, too.

The carved halla, only an empty space where it once sat on her table.

She _tells_ them about it, and they're concerned for _her_. Not what's lost -- not what it means -- the same no matter where she goes.

When she can't explain it to them, when they hear her yet _don't_ , she wonders what they could have done for it anyhow; places like Kirkwall are mazes and puzzles, as are its people, and wherever the halla is now, she can't know for certain.

Until Isabela lets herself into Merrill's home one day, the ornate, detailed wood balanced carefully in the center of her hand.

"Oh!"

Merrill's on her feet, a flurry of excitement and disbelief, and dashing toward her -- but she hesitates while grasping for it, reassured only when Isabela lifts her eyebrow a little higher in question.

"How did you-- Is it really-- _Isabela_."

Isabela offers a shrug, a smirk that's something secretive, something knowing.

"Don't read too much into it, Kitten."

But that's _all_ she can do. More than anything -- more than the halla itself and the cold comfort of words -- Isabela is there and listening and wonderful in a way she always vaguely suspects and now truly knows.

"How did you find it?"

"We'd spend less time talking about it if you asked how I _didn't_ find it."

There's a chuckle -- and Merrill thinks she's referencing something dirty, maybe, but she can't imagine what's dirty about a stolen carving -- before Isabela makes herself at home, sitting right on the edge of the table.

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"Not even so much as a hint."

And even so, Merrill can't help but mirror her smile, something about Isabela infectious and exciting just as it always is, and when she brushes her lips to Isabela's cheek -- and later, more boldly, her mouth -- it's much more than gratitude.


	5. Isabela/Merrill: She Doesn't Need Saving

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is prompted by Bellisadinosaur.
> 
> Isabela/Merrill -- "She doesn't need saving."

Isabela snags Hawke by the arm, tugging him back with surprising strength. There's a lift to her brow, a tilt of her head. "Just wait," she says.

And Hawke does, long enough to see Merrill squash the two bandits advancing as if they're little more than insects.

Somewhere beside him, Isabela chuckles. "Kitten doesn't _need_ saving."

As Isabela dashes forward to join Merrill, standing at her back with sneaky fingers mapping the curve of her spine, Hawke supposes that she's right.


	6. Isabela/Aveline: Winner Takes All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is prompted by Cherith.
> 
> Isabela/Aveline -- Winner takes all.

The chair scrapes across the floor, and Isabela sits, boots shamelessly crossed on the table. The disapproving glance from Aveline tells her what kind of mood tonight will be — no worse than usual but so much more fun if she plays her cards right.

And Isabela _always_ does just that.

“Hawke’s completely smashed.”

Their fearless ring leader continues to make his way to the bottom of several mugs of piss-quality ale and shows no signs of stopping any time soon. Someone will intervene before long, but that doesn’t mean the _rest_ of them can’t have fun with it.

“Three more drinks, tops, before he’s telling that story about the old bat that chased him with a broom again.”

She sees the frown first and foremost, but Isabela can also tell that Aveline _considers_ it. “You’ll cheat.”

“How _can_ I? Hawke’s in control. I’m just a betting spectator.” And that’s not the reassurance it should be; Isabela watches more than she lets on, and she knows them all well enough to take a good guess at where this is going.

Her little secret.

“Two. It’s always two.”

It’s a safe bet, predictable and so very _Aveline_ — and of course, she’s wrong.

Hawke caves exactly after the third, and they’re regaled with harrowing tales of a nameless woman that loves nothing more than wielding her intimidating broom at Garrett Hawke, slayer of high dragons and Qunari rebellions.

Isabela is grinning all the while, but there’s a fire behind her eyes much later, when the others are gone and she claims the prize that they never exactly agreed upon before it happens: a stolen, searing kiss that leaves Isabela wondering who, out of the two of them, really cheated.


	7. Ser Cauthrien/Leliana: Grey Wardens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is prompted by Serindrana.
> 
> Ser Cauthrien/Leliana -- Grey Wardens AU.

Months after war and Darkspawn are put to rest, a thing for campfire stories and tavern songs, she stalks the halls of Vigil’s Keep like a lioness on the defensive, willing to protect Ferelden whatever the cost, the sacrifice — or so that is how Leliana tells it.

It’s not so far from the truth.

In her stories, where the other Wardens feel like family, like familiar faces and memories, Cauthrien feels like duty, like loss, like amends to be made.

It’s a likeness, a sickness, that Leliana knows all too well.

When they find themselves alone at the table, the last stragglers of mostly finished dinner, it’s still there — _always there_ — between them.

“I thought the bread was delightful. Surely it is not worthy of such a determined expression.”

The sound of a voice slicing through the silence seems to straighten Cauthrien’s posture and set her jaw, but Leliana waits.

If only for a moment, Cauthrien seems to realize herself, to think better of it, and shakes her head. “That it isn’t.”

It’s a conversation done before it even truly begins, curt and final and no less than she expects.

“You have much on your mind. I won’t trouble you.” Leliana’s goblet of wine is still in hand when she stands, offering a small smile to Cauthrien. “But I will remind you that my door is open should you want to talk.”

It isn’t the first time she makes the offer, and it won’t be the last — but even Leliana is surprised when, after the lanterns burn out and the Keep settles, there is a sharp but careful knock at her door.


	8. Ser Cauthrien/Leliana: Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is a gift for Serindrana as a part of the Tumblr Inbox Fic Meme, in which users left fanfiction in the inbox of others participating in the meme. Tumblr has a character limit on the inbox, so these scenes were written to scale. It turned out to be a fun challenge.
> 
> Ser Cauthrien/Leliana -- Dance.

Leliana asks, tipping her head and laughing in a fashion that is far too musical for Cauthrien to trust, if she has ever danced.

Her curt “no” is lost among grand tales of balls, of fine dresses and exquisite shoes, and she almost doesn’t notice when the hands come to rest at her hip, at her shoulder, leading her, step after step, to the beat of the bard’s voice.


	9. Isabela/Aveline: Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This scene is a gift for Cherith as a part of the Tumblr Inbox Fic Meme, in which users left fanfiction in the inbox of others participating in the meme. Tumblr has a character limit on the inbox, so these scenes were written to scale. It turned out to be a fun challenge.
> 
> Isabela/Aveline -- Battle.

The bloodflow from her nose refuses to stop, her face still bearing the imprint of the shield that crashed against it moments earlier, but Isabela is laughing as she gets to her feet. The mercenaries are dead, after all; she supposes they’re entitled to a cheap shot as their last wish.

“Was your need to show off worth it?” Aveline asks, her scowl very nearly something like concern.

“For that look on your face?” Isabela mock-considers, swiping the back of her glove over her face. “Absolutely.”


End file.
